


Chance Meeting

by Cail



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, Developing Relationship, Fluff, M/M, fuck idk, i'm going to write another chapter for this later
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-04-22
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:34:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,663
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3800473
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cail/pseuds/Cail
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave meets Bro at a bar, Bro decides to ask Dave out, shit happens.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chance Meeting

**Author's Note:**

> I will fix the description later, I'm so bad at those...

Your name is Dave Strider.  
You’re a famous movie director, renowned artifact collector, and a Hollywood superstar. For a celebrity, your life was fairly simple, you worked then you went home and repeated the process the next day. There was nothing off about your life for the most part.  
That is, until you met Bro.

One night, after a long day at work you decided to stop off at a bar, thinking a few drinks would put you in a more relaxed state. There was one not far off from your place that you went to a few times. It was nice, one of those top-end bars that actually smelled like it was cleaned and the women did not look like used up sponges. Was that a rude thing to say? It probably was, oh well. 

The drive there didn’t take too long, you kept the radio on some alternative pop station, only to drown out the silence. You were not sure if you could even call this music, but it was more annoying to drive without something playing in the background. You really should look into mixing your own shit. At least then you could enjoy the music at the same time. But for now this would do. 

The parking lot outside the place wasn’t exactly empty, but it wasn’t packed either. You found a space in the middle and parked your car, pulling the keys out and pocketing them. You checked for your wallet, patting your pants until you felt the bulge, then opened the door and stepped out. The air was chilly, a spring breeze brushing past you, threatening to ruffle your hair up. You couldn’t control that, so it didn’t bother you that much.  
You closed your car door, making sure to press the lock button inside before hand, then stepped back, going over your appearance in the window. You were wearing one of your work suits, black, pressed, fit to your body, though today instead of your usual black tie you wore a red one. It stood out, probably ended up drawing more attention to you than normal. You didn’t mind. 

You walked into the bar with an air of confidence around you, though only a few heads turned to stare. You stopped in the entrance, glancing over to semi-lit bar to look at all the patrons, though that proved tough through your shades. Most were well dressed, seemed to fit in and mingle with other guests, those people took up the booths and left the bar to the few lonely people that were there to get away from the world. That’s the place you belonged. You shifted your glance to the bar, noting the few guys that sat in the stools with drinks in their hands, even they were well dressed. 

Well, all but one. 

There was a tall man seated away from everyone else, a glass of whiskey situated in front of him, fingers idly tapping away at the glass. He was dressed in what seemed like a white polo shirt and jeans, and was that… dress sneakers? Was that even a thing? Normally you wouldn’t give someone like that a second glance, but something drew you in. His shades. No one else in the bar other than you were wearing them, and his were just out there. Though they also seemed familiar and inviting. You decided to cross over to the bar and sit next to him.

You were casual about it, slid into the spot next to him and tapped your fingers against the bar top to get the bartenders attention. “Jack with Diet Coke.” You said, holding confidence as you fished your credit card out and handed it over to the man before he walked off to get your drink. You took that time to turn your head to the side and get a closer look at him. He had not seemed to notice you, at least not at first. He had a bit of chin hair, tame sideburns and he smelled predominantly like hair gel. You noticed how he seemed not to show any emotion on his face, though his jaw tightened noticeably when he saw you looking at him. It took him a second to turn and cock an eyebrow at you.  
This was an opening, he was giving you the first move. You just needed to start the conversation. What to say…

“Come here often?” was what came out of your mouth.

You immediately regret it. You didn’t panic, you just refused to think before opening your mouth. You could have said anything else, maybe call out his appearance, ask for his name, introduce yourself, but no. Instead you said that. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could write it off as an actual question and not a really lame attempt at a pick up line.

By the way the corners of his mouth turned upwards you knew that thought was dead.

The bartender slid your drink by your hand and you immediately went to grab it, turning away from him to bring the glass to your lips. “I just might, what’s it to you?” His answer caught you off guard, but luckily your mouth was busy with your drink so it gave you time to think about your response. He was still staring at you, it unnerved you so you took a little longer than usual to put your drink down. “Never seen you around is all, I think I’d remember seeing someone so poorly dressed.” It was your turn to smirk now, though his didn’t falter. 

“Unlike you, I’m not here to look pretty.” 

“Did you really just call a grown man pretty?”

“If the shoe fits.”

You responded with a hum, picking up and twirling the glass around in your hand. “My name’s Dave.” You said, setting the cup on the bar to hold your hand out. He took it immediately, despite having just held a glass his hand was surprisingly very warm. You liked it. “Call me Bro.” 

You let go of his hand, your eyebrow rising by its’ own design. “What kind of name is that?”

Without missing a beat he responds, “Mine.”

“Well, touché.” The conversation died down after that and it bugged you. You wanted to talk to him for whatever fucking reason, but you were having trouble keeping it up. “So, uh…” You start, bringing a hand up to rub at your cheek. “What do you do for a living?”

He seems to think about this for a moment, lifting his drink up to his lips. When he puts it back down he turns to you. “I run a few popular websites.” 

“Yeah? Which ones?”

“PlushRump.com is one of them.”

“Never heard of it.”

“Good.”

You want to question that, but something tells you not to. Regardless, he speaks up. “So, why is a high profile celebrity like you at this place?”

That caught you off guard. “You know about me?” He gives you another grin in response and you take that as your answer. “Well, I don’t live far from here, figured it’s the best place to grab a few drinks, if I get too smashed I could just walk home.” He nods, lifting his glass to take another sip. He’s getting low so you decide to call the bartender over and order both of you another shot.

“You tryin’ to get me drunk, Princess?” The pet name catches you off guard, but you keep your face impassive. “Maybe, is it working?” 

“Probably.”

“Good to know.” The second the drinks are pushed in front of you both. You chug down your other glass and move it out of the way, replacing it with the new one. Bro does the same. 

You both spend the next two hours talking about your lives, your career, he seemed really interested in your work, even admitting to being a fan, you appreciated that, maybe a little more than you usually do. You talked about hobbies and interests, you found out he has a big thing for puppets, and for whatever reason that didn’t weird you out as much as it should. He was… cool, easy to talk to and strikingly handsome, you couldn’t deny that. 

After those two hours and quite a buzz later, both of you decide to head out, claiming to have shit to do in the morning. Though you do manage to catch his number and you give him yours’ in turn. You part after that, muttering a goodbye and start heading towards your car, deeming yourself at least decent enough to drive the few blocks back to your place.

You make it home without a hitch, climbing the stairs up to the floor level of your apartment. You fumble with the keys slightly, but manage to push the door open and slide yourself inside, locking it after you. You forgo taking a shower, deciding that would be best left for the morning, and head straight to your room, dumping your phone onto the bedside table and start peeling out of your suit. After hanging it up, you climb into bed, falling onto your stomach, face pressed into your pillow and sigh. God, you were exhausted. 

As you started to drift to sleep your phone vibrated. Giving a groan, you pushed yourself up enough to reach for it, unlocking it and noting you got a text from an unknown number. It must be the guy from the bar, so you quickly check the message.

_Hey, let’s get coffee tomorrow. There isn’t an option for you to say no, we’re getting coffee. See ya then._

You blinked, reading the message twice before placing your phone back to where it was before and settling down into your bed again. You could not help the little smile that forced its way over your features, nor did you try to will it away. 

You fell asleep like that, almost excited about the prospect for tomorrow.


End file.
